This was already practically six months of orgasms thrown at her in one day.
“You will,” he said, stroking her firmer, faster, his tongue working overtime.
“Ruby,” he said, her name a plea on his lips, and that was what did it. That was what pushed her over the edge.
Her hips arched up off the bed, and she felt herself dissolve yet one more time.
She was gasping for breath, when he moved up tokiss her mouth, give her a taste of her own pleasure on his lips.
Her face got hot, some of her thoughts returning to her now that her pleasure had a chance to subside.
Then he moved over to his duffel bag, and took out a box of condoms.
She felt embarrassed that she hadn’t thought of that.
But thinking was an unavailable skill right now. She couldn’t say that had ever been the case before. Typically, she was all thought, with a determined lack of access to her feelings. She was okay with having feelings; she just wanted to stay in control of them. And there was no control. Not here. Not with him.
There was nothing but this driving, relentless need. He was beautiful. Just so beautiful.
And he washers.
It was the sudden swamp of possessiveness that surprised her. That grabbed hold of her like a feral thing she had never known was part of her.
He was hers.
Her best friend.
And he had just done things to her that no man had ever done before. That made her feel unequal in a way, because what could she do? When a man was so experienced, what could she give him that hadn’t already been given? Maybe that was the wrong way to think.
“I want to hear you beg,” he said.
He looked at her then, and there was a dangerous light in his eyes. An edge to him that she had never known before. It was like magic. Like one of the doors that had always been locked to her inside of Justice was finally open.
Not just her safe space. Not just her friend. But this man who had a sort of sensual edge to him that had never been hers to harness. And now there it was.
“You want me to...”
“Tell me what you want,” he said. “Beg for what you want.”
She wanted him. Inside of her. She ached for it. Was desperate with the need for it.
But it was... embarrassing.
“This is you and me,” he said. Like he had read her mind. “There’s no reason to be embarrassed about it. There’s no reason to be ashamed. Just tell me what you need.”
“You,” she whispered. “I want you inside of me.”
“That’s what I want too,” he said, opening up the condom box slowly.
Maddeningly slowly.
Then he took out a packet, and tore it open, positioning the latex over the blunt head of his arousal and rolling it down. She had never been so fascinated by the act. Never. But then, she had never found a man’s body quite so beautiful.
He moved over her then, kissing her deep, and she could feel the blunt head of him pressing against the entrance to her.
She wanted him. But right then, she nearly panicked. Nearly pushed him away. Because it felt too big. Too significant. Because it felt like it would be too much for her to handle.
This change. The shift in who they were.
